Nightmares
by Eskimo Jo
Summary: The inevitable rears its ugly head as Martin finally grows tired of the game. Post-ep for Manhunt. MartinSam.


**Disclaimer: **The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Films, CBS, etc. No infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. Except any characters you don't recognize from the show. Those are my creations.

**Summary:** A post-ep for _Manhunt_. The inevitable rears its ugly head when Martin finally decides he's tired of the game... Martin/Sam.

**Spoilers:** _Manhunt _obviously. Season 3 in general.

**Music:** I'm not a fan of songfic personally but I completely believe in music's inspirational qualities. Check out my profile for an archive which includes the link to the list if you really want.

_ Enjoy. _

* * *

She remembers it clearly. That strange feeling you get when you know something is out of place, something is different. Something felt terribly wrong. She'd had it before. Undercover in the case with Colleen. It was the same feeling of dread that just paralysed your senses so you moved blindly forward, unable to comprehend why you were moving or where you were going. You just know you have to keep going. It was the curse of the investigator, to find out the reason at any cost. 

Of course, the feeling came often at crime scenes but it wasn't as personal. And sometimes it didn't mean anything. No matter how many times you tell yourself, "It's all in your head," you can't shake that strange sensation.

That was how she felt as she entered her apartment building that night. Taking her first steps up the staircase, she briefly considered turning around and heading straight the familiar comfort of Martin's arms. Her thoughts strayed to the elephants in Thailand as she climbed the worn stairs. She remembered the reports of their escapism, fleeing inland and upwards before the waves washed disaster over the shores. But the logical side of her brain chimed in with its own ridicule. She was overreacting. And even if there was something wrong, wasn't it her responsibility to investigate? She grimaced at the thought that something may actually be wrong.

She ultimately listened to the reasonable voice. She finished the hike to the third floor of the brownstone. She stood outside her door, apprehensive of what was beyond. Her hand skimmed over the heavy metal on her hip. Her body relaxed at the feeling of reassurance that her weapon held. It would keep her safe. And two years of Quantico self-defence training couldn't be a disadvantage. But the mental paralysis began to take hold and her mind raced through all the moments she had come within seconds of death. Eventually, she gave up the sensible resistance and unholstered her weapon, gripping it tightly in one hand, her keys in the other.

Her cell phone felt heavy in her jacket pocket. The urge to call Martin was tempting. He would laugh, tell her she's being ridiculous, and then poke fun at her paranoia. But she only had two hands and both were occupied. She suddenly became angry at him for leaving her at the office without a word. It seemed uncharacteristically cold but she chalked it up to a high-pressure day.

There was something about the way Jack had looked at her as she stalked out of the office that had initially set her on edge. It was a mix of amusement, curiosity and anger. She had then felt suspicious and uncomfortable on the brief subway ride to her apartment.

And then, as she stood at her apartment door, no doubt a spectacle for her neighbours, she wished that Martin had just stuck around. She wouldn't be alone and she wouldn't be stewing in her own paranoia about opening a goddamn door.

She quickly unlocked the door and shoved the keys into her pocket. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, both hands clenched around her gun. She flicked on the light switch, flooding the peaceful room in a warm yellow glow. There was nothing out of place. Letting out a long breath, she holstered her weapon and shut the door. Once again, her over-active imagination had developed a make-believe nightmare. She kicked her shoes into the corner and hung her jacket. It was then that she realized that there was something wrong. It wasn't a danger. But it still held the same feeling of dread.

There were three pairs of shoes in her corner, untidily placed side by side. All were hers. The sofa was empty of the fleece blanket that she curled up in late at night. The coffee table looked miserable and lonely without the littering of various sports and newsmagazines. Everything else seemed untouched. She inched into her bedroom, half-expectantly and half-apprehensively. Her closet looked empty despite the stock of smart women's suits. A series of professional work shoes stared up at her blankly. It took a moment to sink in.

She slammed the closet door angrily and marched back into the living room. Flouncing down on the sofa, she grabbed the cordless phone. The number almost dialled itself as if by pure will. It had replaced work as her most often called number. Anyone who looked at her phone bill would notice the same pattern.

For some reason, the ring on the other end sounded foreign and it caught her off-guard as the voicemail kicked in.

"You have reached the voicemail of Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald. Please leave a message."

She growled as she waited for the pathetic "beep".

"Martin, it's me. I think we need to talk so hopefully you answer your home line."

She immediately tried his home number but was greeted with another voicemail box. She hung up without leaving a message.

* * *

Hours passed and the phone didn't ring once. By midnight, Sam had grown tired of whatever game Martin was playing. She originally had been hurt by the discovery he had moved out the little things that had implied he was a regular visitor. The bigger problem was that there had been no discussion prior to it. She knew he was genuinely upset by her reluctance to announce their personal lives to the office. He knew her reasons why, and it was embarrassing that he could see through her so easily now. She wanted to slap him for his assumptive intuition, mostly because he was right. 

Lying in bed, she grabbed her cell and hit the speed dial. It rang five times before a tired voice answered.

"Sam." It wasn't a question. If anything, he sounded annoyed.

"I'm surprised you answered."

He paused. "It's midnight. I thought it was important."

She scowled at his choice of words. "It _is_ important."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Oh, you mean at work?" she scoffed. "Just answer me something: Why didn't you want to come over tonight?" She didn't feel like tiptoeing around the real issue.

She heard him sigh heavily on the other end. "I have an early meeting tomorrow. I wanted to sleep and the case was exhausting."

"So you had to take all your shit from my place first?"

He hesitated. "Can we please not do this now?"

She knew that she shouldn't push him. He was already pissed off about their conversation that morning. He had been seething all day, just under the surface and despite her attempts to rectify her earlier comments she had failed. He just remained completely professional. She wanted nice Martin back: the caring, content, slightly naughty Martin that she had been with for the last ten months. His attitude now was unnerving.

"Martin, don't try to put it off."

"I really don't want to talk now."

"I don't care. You break into my apartment, take all you stuff, and then ignore me all night…" She was seething.

"First of all, you gave me a key so don't pull that bullshit. Secondly, it's my stuff. And finally, in case you hadn't noticed, between your excuses and gazing at Jack, I was tracking down a missing kid. I have a report to write up by tomorrow. So how about you back off?" His tone was dark and harsh. She was speechless for a moment, only imagining the look on his face. It made her uncomfortable and that previous feeling of anxiety swept over her again.

"You know," she started in retort, "Don't try to pass your insecurity issues onto me. Your obsession with Jack and I has to stop."

"Your obsession with yourself has to stop," he snapped back.

Once again, she had no immediate response. She took a deep breath.

"Martin," she said softly.

"I think we need a break." His voice sounded hollow.

"What?"

"I wanted to say it in person."

"A break?" she asked, her voice small.

"Yeah." He sounded just as dejected as she felt. "I just can't anymore. But I'm tired. I'll see you at work tomorrow." He clicked off the phone before she could say anything in response. It was only the beginning of the end.

* * *

Martin tossed his phone across the bedroom. It landed on a garbage bag full of blankets and clothes that he had retrieved from Sam's apartment. He glared at the offensive bags and rolled over in bed. The truth was, he had finished his report a long time ago. He had done half of it on the ride back to New York. It was also during the ride that the real SAC had asked him and Danny if they were willing to do him a favour. He needed someone to give a quick tour to a new tech lab assistant. Martin said he would, being too tired to really understand what he was agreeing to. 

So only part of what he told Sam had been a lie.

Sam.

He momentarily contemplated crawling out of bed and calling her back. But she was angry and he was tired. He stared at the empty space in the bed, the space that she usually occupied. He wanted to reach out and touch her. There wasn't any way he could do that now.

It hurt so badly. He cringed as he thought of her sitting at the conference table as he walked out. But he couldn't do it anymore. There was nothing more painful for him than being in so deeply in love with a woman who didn't love him back. He knew she didn't. She never had. She would play make-believe when they were alone. They would pretend that they were really, really happy and their relationship was the start of something wonderful. He didn't need to pretend to the same degree. He was in love with her. But he had to lie to himself and pretend she felt the same.

He couldn't deal with it anymore. He couldn't sit around as they laughed and cuddled, as he fell deeper in love with her, and not think of what she was really thinking, and more importantly, whom she was thinking about. The problem was with him. His patience was wearing thin as she consistently refused to admit that they were anything.

The lie was tearing him apart.

There were those brief moments where she let her real feelings slip. On the stoop that morning had been one of those moments. "Sleeping together". That's what they were doing in her eyes. 10 fucking months of just sleeping together.

He wanted to punch something, mostly her. Of course, he would never really hit her but sometimes when he lay awake at night, he had horrible thoughts. Violent fantasies of beating the shit out of his boss for fucking his life over. He was tired of playing second fiddle to Jack. He was tired of bearing the brunt of Sam's mistake. Sam, for her part, certainly didn't seem to be aware of what she was doing. And it was that confusion that Martin found so infuriating. She had no clue what she was doing as she used him for sex at night and treated him like her puppy during the day, placating him with little treats like a smile here, a touch there.

Her whore.

That's what he was.

Martin rolled onto his back so he wouldn't have to stare at the empty bed. It didn't help. Wherever he looked, he would see her. He would see her looking down on him in the throws of orgasm, her eyes closing as she gasped for breath until she collapsed on his spent body. He loved to watch her come. It was tangible evidence that she liked him, at least enough to let go of herself. In those quiet moments as their breathing slowed and heartbeats returned to normal, he saw something different in her. If she looked at him, it was different than any other time. Her gaze was unclouded by confusion or doubt. She would look at him as if she truly loved him back.

It had been that look that made him hang on for so long, always believing that maybe she did love him. But it never was there at any other time.

Maybe she just liked sex.

He tried rolling over on his other side, staring into the darkness of his bedroom. He could vaguely make out the heap of her clothes scattered around his dresser. Socks, pyjama pants, t-shirts. He could picture her rooting through his sock drawer in the morning, complaining about how cold her feet were as he lay in bed, half-awake and smiling at her.

She would pull on a pair of his socks and then jump into bed beside him, climbing on top of him trying to wrestle him awake so they could grab a quick shower together. She would kiss him. She would tug on his earlobe with her teeth and giggle.

There was nowhere that he didn't see her.

Closing his eyes only produced a steady trickle of tears. He wouldn't sleep tonight.

* * *

Sam could do nothing but stare at the phone in disbelief. She slowly placed it on her nightstand and lay back in her bed. It was too quiet in the room. Martin's breathing was replaced with the sound of silence. She felt suffocated. Had he just broken up with her? She couldn't wrap her mind around the possibility. It sure sounded like it was over. Why? Why would he do that? 

He said he couldn't do it anymore. _Do what?_

Sam wanted to scream in frustration. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She knew she wasn't in love with Jack anymore. Martin had no right to be so possessive anyway. It wasn't like they were that serious.

Sam frowned at her own thoughts. They were serious. She had given him her key for Christ's sake. They might as well have been joined at the hip for the amount of time they spent together. Maybe Martin had grown sick of her constant companionship. But he had never seemed to mind being around her…Except when she was around Jack. Her brain recalled the strange look Jack had given her on her way out. She wondered if that had something to do with it. Had Martin said something to Jack?

No. He wouldn't. She knew he wouldn't have gone against her wishes like that no matter how upset he was. Maybe Jack had said something. She toyed with the possibility. Nothing made any sense anymore. This was specifically why she didn't date co-workers. Things became far too complicated. Simple actions like coming into work became huge issues:_ Did they walk in together? Does that mean they spent the night together? How long have they been fucking? Is it serious?_

Sam wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. If Jack knew, it made things horrifying. It wasn't that she was stupid. She knew that her colleagues were intelligent people but she liked to believe they wouldn't figure it out. She preferred to think of herself as wilfully blind.

She was embarrassed of her relationship with Martin. She had to admit that to herself. Part of it was because co-workers would automatically see her as the office whore, sleeping her way into money and power. First her boss, then the Deputy Director's son. The other part of her was embarrassed because Martin wasn't her type. She liked to have the reputation of being unflappable, only seeing confident, gregarious, pompous assholes. It made her seem stronger, at least in her own opinion. Martin wasn't an asshole. He didn't treat her like trash. She felt awkward being in a relationship with someone like that. She wasn't used to being taken care of, being genuinely loved. It was a foreign concept and it made her uncomfortable.

The embarrassing part was that _everyone_ else seemed to know how to function in that kind of relationship. Viv was a shining example. It scared her that her colleagues would see the way she acted towards Martin and look down on her for not responding properly to him. She wanted to but she had no idea how. In private, it was different. There was no one watching, eager to critique her. The only other person there didn't care how silly it looked or how she stuttered occasionally when she got really excited. He only cared that she was there with him.

But now she didn't have to worry about looking foolish anymore. He had told her he was finished.

She wanted to call back and scream at him for being so fucking selfish. He had no right to tell her that it was over. It had to be agreed upon. Sam knew it would be just as selfish of her to do that.

Maybe it was for the best. But if it was the right thing to do, why did it feel so awful? Sam flopped over in her bed and tried to fall asleep in the deafening silence.

* * *

The next morning, Sam was fidgeting as the elevator came up to the 23rd floor. She had refrained from calling Martin early this morning despite her muddled judgement due to being awake for most of the night. As he had said, they would see each other at work anyway. Stepping off the elevator, she was acutely aware of all the people around her, marching back and forth. She walked into the bullpen where Jack was talking to Viv and Danny at the conference table. 

She placed her jacket and purse down at her desk and joined them. She tried to concentrate but wondered where Martin was. Glancing over at his desk, she saw that his coat was there. She focused on Jack's debriefing. Once again, she was assigned office duty with the lovely task of running down numbers.

Jack looked at her strangely again and she shifted under his indistinct glare. He could tell that she was distracted, it was obvious. She excused herself to begin working on tracking down the missing person's father.

When Jack had returned to his office, she swivelled her chair over to Danny's desk. She leant close to him.

"Where's Martin? Why isn't he working on this case?" she whispered. Danny looked confused by her question.

"I thought you would have known."

"Obviously not," she snapped a little more harshly than she intended.

"He's got a meeting with Erkens' daughter." Danny tried to understand what was going on with them. He had been at work when Martin arrived. In all honesty, he had looked like a mess of exhaustion and melancholy, not at all like he had a restful night. When Danny, eager to start work, had asked if Sam was coming in soon, Martin had shrugged and a scowl had fluttered across his face.

"What?"

"Erkens was the SAC last night before Martin arrived and his daughter's the new tech lab assistant. She just needed a quick tour. Martin volunteered before I got the chance," Danny explained. "I guess they're still on tour."

Sam pondered the situation. She stared off into the bullpen. Danny watched her expression change from confusion to something more sour.

"Sam," he started quietly, "Are you okay?" There was something strange about her that morning.

"I'm fine."

"I mean, you and Martin. Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine." She stared at him for a moment. "Look, I've gotta get back to those numbers." She pushed her chair back to her desk and began researching the records.

* * *

Jack was in the bullpen with Danny and Samantha as they explained the current situation when Martin arrived back at his desk. He actually had a smile on his face until he saw Sam and Jack. He immediately started on his work. It hadn't escaped Jack or Danny's notice that Martin and Sam were not on the same level they had been even yesterday. Sam chewed on her pen as she pretended not to notice Martin's cold entrance. Jack called Martin over and assigned him and Danny to check out the man's business. Sam was sent to meet up with Viv uptown.

* * *

Martin didn't say anything to Danny on the ride over to the club. Danny couldn't take the suspense anymore. 

"So, what's going on with you and Sam?" he tried to ask lightly.

"Nothing."

"There's gotta be something, man."

"Nope."

Danny grumbled to himself for a moment. "Come on, Martin. You know I already know about you two. So what's going on today?"

Martin sighed. "Nothing. There's nothing going on today."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Martin tapped his fingers nervously as the waited at a stoplight. He watched the people walking by. Danny didn't like the direction that this conversation was heading. They were obviously having some sort of fight but it was impossible to gauge how serious it was. There was only one way to find out.

"She broke your heart, didn't she?"

Martin said nothing, acting like he didn't hear Danny's question. For some reason, for Danny, the knowledge didn't make him feel any better. It made him feel as miserable as Martin looked. If Martin couldn't get through to Sam, no one could. She was doomed to a destructive cycle.

"Martin?"

"It's not important," he said quietly. "We can all just get back to normal now."

Danny shook his head. "Well, you know that's a lie." He paused and glanced over at his partner. "You and her will never be normal again."

"We will." He was being stubborn. Danny didn't know how to get through to him. This was just going to fuck up the whole team if Sam and Martin didn't fix whatever was going on. And Danny knew Sam well enough to know she was just as stubborn. She wouldn't go to Martin, no matter how much she wanted to. It was up to him to convince Martin to try again, if just for Sam's sake.

"She loves you, you know that right?" This was his last chance to convince Martin.

"Nice try, Danny. I'm not blind. I know exactly how Sam feels. She's made that perfectly and honestly clear." That hurt look was back on his face. He tried to cover it with a brave and snotty expression.

"No, I don't think you do. You don't know Sam as well as you think."

Martin glared angrily at Danny for his assertion. "Hmm, well, unless you slept with her too, I seriously doubt that," he spat.

"Don't try to pick a fight with me, Fitz. I'm on your side," Danny rejoined getting slightly annoyed with Martin's attitude. "I get that you're upset about Sam but just chill out. I've known her for years before you even arrived and she has never, not once, looked at _anyone_ the way she looks at you. Don't give me any bullshit about her not being _desperately_ in love with you. You don't know what love is then." Danny paused to look over at his friend. Martin's face showed no emotion but his eyes told a different story. They were glazed and almost misty.

"You're just making stupid excuses to avoid a rough spot." 

Martin shook his head. "You're wrong. I'm getting out while I still have a chance of retaining my sanity." He had really wanted to ask Danny if Sam really did look at him differently than she looked at Jack but he was afraid of the answer. He was afraid he would actually say 'yes'.

"You're fucking unbelievable," Danny breathed out.

Martin tensed in the passenger seat. "Look, Danny, if I wanted your damn opinion, I would have asked for it, okay? Can we just drop it?"

Danny pulled the car into a sketchy driveway. He quickly punched the childlock button. Martin rolled his eyes.

"She loves you, Martin. She might not even know it yet. But she _loves_ you. And you obviously love her or else you wouldn't be getting so fucking defensive and angry with me. So how about you just drop this whole 'unaffected' bullshit you have going on because it's _really_ not your style."

Martin stewed silently as he stared at the metallic garage door ahead of them. He reached down and flicked the lock. "Thanks a lot, Dr. Taylor," he mumbled as he climbed out of the car. Danny watched him closely as he too climbed out of the car. He could have sworn he saw the slightest smirk on Martin's face. Danny smiled to himself as they walked to interview the club employees.

* * *

It was after 1 AM by the time the boys returned from the field. Vivian had just left to go home when Martin and Danny arrived. Jack was in his office and Sam was alone again working on her report. She looked up as they walked in. A mix of hope and despondency was revealed on her face. She immediately looked down as he glanced back at her. 

Danny nudged Martin subtly as he made his way over to gather his things for the night. Martin shuffled his papers and glanced over at Sam again. She was clearly pretending to concentrate. He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his files to work on at home. He went to leave but caught Danny's eye. Turning around, he walked towards Sam's desk. She looked up with surprise as he approached.

He could read the relief on her face. He touched her shoulder gently.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he replied.

"Look, Martin, I think " she started.

"Yeah. Just so you know, I'm going home now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Martin," she began again but he was already on his way out. He did that a lot recently. Every time he didn't want to discuss something, he just left. She guessed he had learnt that from her. Danny watched the exchange sadly. Some people didn't learn. Danny looked at Sam. She shrugged quickly and returned to her work.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked loudly. Sam's head shot up.

"Working. Same thing you should be doing."

Danny strode over to her desk and grabbed her paperwork, shoving it in a bag. She began to protest but he ignored her. Thrusting the bag into her arms, he pointed to the door.

"Don't even start with me, Samantha," he warned. "I will not put up with a fucked up office because you two are such fucking babies. Now stop being such a selfish shit and go home."

"Fuck you, Danny," she steamed. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Stop trying to play some fucking cupid and mind your own goddamn business."

He huffed at her angrily. "Sam. Stop it. Just go." She glared at him as he held her jacket out to her. "You know it's for the best."

She snatched her coat and marched quickly out of the bullpen, if only to shut Danny up. She easily caught up with Martin in the hallway. He turned in surprise at the recognizable sound of her heels. He stared at her, slightly confused.

"Want some company?" she asked.

"Not really. I'm not really in a great mood," he admitted. "But if you're willing to hang out with a bitter, exhausted asshole, you're welcome to."

"We need to talk."

"I said what I needed to say last night."

"Fine, then you can listen to me." She grasped his hand tightly as she stared in his eyes. He looked uncomfortable with her gesture. "So I'm coming home with you."

Martin leant down to her ear. "You do understand the point of breaking up, right?"

"You do understand the idea of talking, right?" she shot back.

He nodded, amazed by her rare persistence about actually solving a relationship problem. They began walking to elevator. Both glanced into Jack's office. He too looked at them with that same strange look he had given Sam last night. She darted her eyes away, following Martin out of the office.

* * *

Martin was in the kitchen making himself some tea. Sam wandered around his living room nervously. She wrung her fingers together. She glanced quickly at the kitchen and made her way to the bedroom. She noticed the large garbage toppled over on the bedroom floor. She recognized the items from her apartment. Would it be too much to just grab the bag and walk out with it? She tossed out the idea, sensing that Martin was not his usual playful self and would probably only get angrier with her. She stared at his bed, lost in thoughts about being with him. 

"What are you doing in here?"

His hardened voice jolted her back to reality. She swung around and brushed past him, back into the living room without saying a word. They stood facing each other in awkward silence. It had never been this strained between them. Sam wanted to run again. This was too hard and it took much effort to look him in the eyes. But something rooted her feet to the carpet. They stared at each other. Martin took a drink from his mug. Her gaze darted around the space as her hands flitted around anxiously, trying to find a comfortable place to rest.

"So, you said you had something to say to me," Martin said, breaking the silence. "It'd be great if you said it now so I could actually get some sleep tonight."

"I didn't sleep last night. Why change that?" she said with sarcasm.

His expression changed from irritable to concerned. "You didn't?" His voice held a tone of worry. No matter how angry he was at her, he couldn't change how concerned he was with her well-being.

"No. You didn't really give me a nice thought to dwell on as I tried to fall asleep." She moved to his sofa and sat down slowly. He remained where he was, watching her guardedly. She let out a long sigh.

"Is it over?" Despite her best efforts, her voice cracked.

He looked at his feet. "Yeah. I think so."

Sam nodded slowly. Neither said anything for long minutes. Sam finally stood up and pretended to brush herself off. Martin watched her, profound sadness in his eyes. She looked around for her bag of files. They were sitting on the end table beside him. She reached over.

"You're shaking," he observed as she grabbed for the bag.

She let out a short laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. "Yeah, I'm really tired. It's been a long day and I think I just need to get home and relax." It was a poor excuse and her voice wavered as she tried to explain. He didn't call her on her weak explanation. He wanted to. He wanted to tell her to stop lying, just to confess that she was hurting too. But she refused, being as stubborn as he was. If she couldn't bring herself to be honest, then there was nothing left for them. She briskly walked past him to the door.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

She turned to look at him, offering a faint smile. "Yeah, me too." She pulled the key to his apartment out of her pocket and placed it on a table. She walked out of the door, closing it softly behind her. He stared at the door with reluctant acceptance as that chapter of his life closed.

* * *

Martin put his tea down and strolled over to pick up his extra key. He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. He looked at the key with its small label in Sam's handwriting, 'Martin'. It occurred to him that she hadn't actually taken anything else of hers with her. He knew her pink toothbrush was still sitting on the edge of the sink. He knew half her clothes were still scattered all around his bedroom. Her basketball still sat in the hall closet. 

As he fiddled with the key, staring at her handwriting of his name, he was suddenly pushed aside as his door swung open again.

"What the."

Sam pushed past him, standing defiantly in his living room, her arms folded across her chest. He took a moment to understand what was going on. He had thought they had just finished.

"You need to answer me something, Martin. I know I said I had something to say to you but you need to answer me first and I don't want any shitty, half-assed, cryptic messages. I want the truth."

He bit his lip softly, nodding.

"Why?" she barked.

"Why?" he echoed in honest confusion.

"What did I do? Why did you choose to do this after all this time? What did I do that was so horrible that you don't even consider it necessary to talk to me until you've up and left already? You never even gave me a chance to explain."

"You already explained it." He ran his fingers over his head again. "Sam, I just...It's not something I want to do, but it's something I have to do. Do you understand the difference?"

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. "No, I don't. If you don't want to, then why?"

"I don't have the energy anymore. I can't keep up with this fucking game you play." He looked down and slowly sat down in an armchair. "I just can't keep going on and on and on, never getting anywhere with you and constantly having to look over my shoulder for some imaginary monster that you are convinced is out to get you if you come within 10 feet of happiness."

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You have this paranoia that everything is about you, and that everything is out to get you. It follows you around to something as ridiculous and harmless as a fucking basketball game. You need to understand, for once in your life, the universe does not revolve around you." He took a deep breath.

"Is this about the goddamn Knicks game?" she asked incredulously.

"No! It's about you. I just don't have the energy to constantly be worrying about where your loyalties stand with the huge elephant in the room with us all the time. I can't be chasing you around. I tried it and I'm tired of it." He sounded defeated. "And Jack knows now about us. Ironic, isn't it? Just as he finds out there isn't actually anything to find out about."

"Jack knows?" she asked fearfully. Martin only nodded. She paced back and forth for a few moments before sitting on the couch. She looked at him, chewing on her bottom lip.

"It doesn't matter," she finally said. "I don't care. I still don't understand why you think that you have to chase me. I'm here, Martin. Isn't that enough for you? I've been here for almost a year."

"Yeah, and you're like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. You're a completely different person when we're alone. Then in the office you…" He trailed off. "And you still refuse to tell anyone."

"For fuck's sake, Martin. It's not because of you! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"So it's all about you again? What I want isn't important?"

"I didn't say that. You twist everything I say. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you something, you still find some alternate fucking meaning. You assume to know me so well but you have no fucking clue. If you still think I'm hung up on Jack, and that's where my loyalties are divided, you're wrong."

"Then what is it?" He was irritable again.

She thought for a moment before looking at him straight on. "I screw everything up."

"And keeping us secret will somehow prevent that?" he asked sceptically.

"I don't know. It was worth a try," she shrugged.

"You know, even if people in the office found out, they would only talk about it for a few days. We both know how quickly things are forgotten. Everything has novelty for a short while but then it's not important anymore and something juicier comes along."

She gazed at him. He remembered what Danny had said earlier in the car. He had mentioned that Sam was already in love, desperately in love, in fact. He wondered how obvious that was. Did Jack see it? Did it even matter if he did? Why couldn't Martin see it? He knew how he felt about her. He knew how much it hurt to push her away, to constantly be wondering when the axe was going to fall. He had figured that breaking up with her would just put him out of his misery but the misery on her face just multiplied it.

There was that look in her eyes, that one he saw only briefly after they made love. But it was there right now, boring holes into his mind. Maybe she really wasn't aware of it herself.

"You've heard the saying right?" he asked after a long pause. She cocked her head in response, urging him to continue.

"If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it was never yours to begin with."

She smiled. "So what are you saying?"

He stared at her. "You came back… I didn't even have to chase you."

"Of course I did. I don't have anything else. I don't have anything other than you."

He smiled at her choice of words. "Good to know I'm just better than nothing."

"You know I didn't mean it that way."

"I know."

They stared at each other for a few moments. Martin wasn't sure if she really knew what she was doing. But he had seen the possibility. That flicker in her eyes betrayed what she couldn't admit to herself. He wouldn't chase her forever. He knew now how to draw the line. Sam moved over to crawl into his lap. She closed her eyes, hoping for a better night's sleep tonight. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her forehead softly.

He owed Danny now. Maybe floor seats at to a Knicks game would be enough.

_the end. _

* * *

_"Forget about your expectations  
I'm not as hopeless as I seem  
Just try to see all that I am." -'All That I Am', Christine Evans_


End file.
